Iceland's Fridge
by Pierrot Of Words
Summary: Iceland is a little TOO close to his fridge? FridgexIcelandxFridge action. Food involved. Yes, I'm serious, porn of Iceland and a refrigerator.
1. Iceland Loves His Fridge

His fingers brushed the white door lightly, sensually. Was it creepy to love this man-made box so? He couldn't think so. If a man could waver another man's heart, so could this thing waver his. Who cared if it was creepy? It could just be between him and the fridge.

He moaned at the sucking noise the door made as it opened away from the frame. The chill swept over his already bare skin. That was his lover touching him. The contained fish aroma wafted around him. That was his lover's smell. It was sweeter than any woman or man he'd known.

He gently touched the butter in the dish, pushing his fingers into it, coating them as he slowly melted it with his body-heat. When his fingers were all sticky with the beautiful yellow liquid dripping down his hand, he stroked his length lovingly. His hand glided over smoothly, making him moan.

He wanted more. He grabbed a pack of ice and spilt some out. Picking up a particularly big one, he licked each side, making the cube just slick enough. He fell to his knees and nuzzled the lower drawer with his forehead. Reaching between his legs he found where his little ice cube was going... and pushed it in.

It was so much colder against the heat he was giving off compared to his fingers. He leaned forward, dragging his head further and further down the fridge. The ice slid down his passageway, leaving a chill as it went. Iceland cried out as the cube reached so deep it was rubbing against his sweet spot. He wished the fridge had a name so he could scream it through the roof.

He clenched the cube in place, so he could reach once more into the open fridge. He pulled out the first thing his fingers blindly touched, which turned out to be a tomato. He immediately bit down on it, making the juice squeeze out over his face and chest, and even in his light-colored hair.

Iceland wiped some of it over his chest, ending with a thumb over his budded nipple. He pinched and played while he bent over again, letting the almost melted ice rub and melt on his nerves. The tomato fell from his mouth. He took his hand, covered in water and tomato-juice, and pumped his buttery erection furiously.

His breathing grew fast and his heart beat. He thought about the fridge... oh how he loved the fridge. He screamed out his euphoria and shot out all over the fridge's lower door. Leaning against it, his stroked it with his fingers, leaving a trail of red and yellow. He closed the door and kisses the handle as that sucking noise was made, telling him back that the fridge loved him too. He fell asleep, whispering to the inanimate object. 


	2. Sweden's Fridge! Crack Epilogue

Iceland came into the kitchen for breakfast the next day. He blushed when he saw his fridge sitting in the usual place.

Shit, he thought, I forgot he'd be here...

He curtly took some cereal from the cupboard and poured it in a bowl. Then he realized he needed milk... he ate it dry, his chews slow and nervous.

"So, having a good morning?"

The fridge hummed in reply.

"Good" Iceland said quietly.

He finished his disgusting cereal, and sat there quietly staring at the bowl. At last, he couldn't hold it anymore.

"I think we should just be friends!" He said firmly.

The fridge was quiet.

"I know we did that but I want us to stay the way we were!"

The fridge was quiet.

"A-are you okay?" He panicked"

Some water leaked out of the door. Iceland almost thought he had made it cry... but he wasn't that stupid. He rushed over to it, yelling, "What's wrong, what?!" over and over.

His shaking hand was covered in the bloo--- the water. He fell to his knees and beat on the door furiously.

"IT'S NOT FAIR! WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN ME?!" He screamed, until his wrist was caught and he spun around. There stood Sweden, staring ominously.

"It's plug just came loose," He grunted, "What're you doing to m' Fridge?" 


	3. AN 4 Years Later

Dear anonymous Guest who left a review asking me a question I couldn't answer because you were a Guest- it's been 3 or 4 years since I wrote this. I've matured since and this silliness only serves to amuse people who are now the age I was when I wrote it. My inspiration was the silliness of my friends. I RPed back then, a lot, and there was an Iceland role-player I was fond of. Some silly turn of events inspired it. I think Icey was trapped in a fridge, some innuendo about 'being in the fridge' was made... I dunno. Something like that. It was all a joke. I wrote an America/Burger fic too, but never posted it anywhere. Maybe it's on my external storage still.

It's been a long time since I wrote this. A long time. And yet, I still get emails notifying me of new reviews what seems like every week. To everyone who keeps doing so- thanks. I'm glad I made something that's been appreciated for such a long time. I've actually long moved accounts to hide from all the adolescent writing on this one, but I don't plan on ever removing this account because of all the people always writing reviews. It really brightens up my day when I see one. I seem to have written some kind of cult classic (based on the deviantart groups, that time there was a facebook group for the pairing, the time someone asked to RP an anthro version of the fridge, the fanart I've recieved in the past, etc) so I can't delete it even though it's so embarassing! It's made itself a soft spot in my heart, to the point I made a little tag for it on my Tumblr to document posts I see that mention this dreadful fic.

So... thanks y'all. If you want to contact me you can at casuistdork

But before I call it quits... go ahead and turn over to the third and final chapter. 


	4. Iceland is a Clumsy Lover

Polar opposites, heat and cold, contained in breaths which intermingled with the hot one wrapped and compacted and ultimately dispersed into the chiller which sought it's distribution and his, Iceland's, fingers grew number and number as time went on and the heat stored in his gut emptied and was filtered away without recompense. Inside there was only losing and not gaining- heat, and therefore motion. Iceland didn't even see the darkness as his lids had frozen shut.

And "Why?" he had to wonder. Why was he here? How had everything gone so wrong? His cold companion was now a bunny boiler, only the bunny was being frozen and it wasn't a bunny but himself, locked within a refridgerator only held by suction but apparently by a stronger force than he had the strength to reckon with.

But then, light. A crack and a blast, the door opening up to a stunned pair of Nords clamoring over his stiff, blue body as it toppled out onto them. A rasher of bacon was glued with ice to his rump, but more startlingly he wasn't wearing anything over it. Nor... over any other part of him.

"Damnit Iceland, we told you you could get help for this."

The poor man's teeth chattered in response. 


End file.
